


Sour Plums & Damned Souls

by monbae



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heart Stealer, Alternate Universe - Horror, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Established Relationship, Fallen Angels, Heart Eating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mention of Arson and Overdose, Murder, Non-Explicit Sex, Serial Killers, ~ though this is actually more subtle than the tags suggest !!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monbae/pseuds/monbae
Summary: It's valentine's day — there's never a better occasion than this to steal some warm, still beating hearts.
Relationships: Kim Younghoon/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	Sour Plums & Damned Souls

“How does it feel? Is it too tight?”

It’s always the same question, but Younghoon feels the need to ask it every time they do it.  _ He  _ does it, Juyeon just sits as still as possible while he fastens the black leather straps of the muzzle around the back of his head. 

It’s a dangerous game, never knowing when his husband loses control over his hunger, never knowing when he is weak enough to grab at him and just bite. 

Juyeon just taps tenderly at his hip three times before letting his fingers sink deeper into the prominent bones. Younghoon’s skin is bruised for the rest of his life where his husband’s hands usually dig their way inside his body. Three blood shade dips on either side of his hips, the unblemished white of his skin smudged with purple around the holes. 

He’s used to the unpleasant, wet feeling clawing its way up his spine every single time this happens, it’s the only way to keep Juyeon’s urges at bay when the sun is still high on the blue of the sky and more than enough people walk the streets to make a murder quite a distasteful scene. 

Younghoon threads his fingers through Juyeon’s wet hair, twirling the longer strands around before letting them unfold on their own. He lets the other push his face against his stomach, but the cold of steel makes the muscles jump and he twists Juyeon’s head to the side with the tender grip he has on his hair. The man sighs at the gesture, mouth slightly open, tongue darting out to lick at his chapped lips. 

He loves this, loves being controlled when he’s weak and hungry, on the edge of going mad. And Younghoon gives this to him easily, just like he gives everything Juyeon desires for. 

A sudden pain jolts him when one of Juyeon’s fingers scratches harshly at the bone, his hold on his husband’s hair tightening. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, withdrawing his fingers a little bit, letting the blood drip down from under his touch. Younghoon feels liquid iron running down his skin before it drenches the fabric of his jeans. Times like this even the slightest amount of blood can get Juyeon to calm down, that is why he just keeps running his fingers through his husband’s hair, his other hand sliding over the scars left after his wings were taken away, pressing down gently along the tender, pink skin. 

It elicits a tiny whimper from Juyeon and he pushes his shoulders forward so the sharp cut of his blades won’t touch Younghoon’s hands as he continues sliding his fingers up and down. He has told him that it brings him great pleasure, — even while he still had his wings he loved when someone touched them. The soft gesture turns him on and takes his mind off from the hunger eating at his insides. So Younghoon keeps putting pressure on them, letting Juyeon moan and drool over his skin and clothes, bliss fogging his mind. Eventually, his fingers sink deeper again but this time he just bites his lips and stills his body from reacting to it. 

He feels the push before he feels the fall, fingers pressing harsh against his bones when Juyeon makes them fall back on the still unmade bed, letting Younghoon straddle his thighs, bracing himself with his hands on his shoulder. 

“Juyeon.”

The man gives him a tired smile and Younghoon can only see fragments of it because of the muzzle, but he knows it’s a genuine one. He lets himself fall on his elbow then on his side, turning Juyeon’s body entirely to face him. He automatically pushes his head into the crook of Younghoon’s neck, fingers still digging deep into his hips. 

“How about we go on a date tomorrow?”

“Date?” he asks, hands sliding up and down his back, blunt nails scratching along the raw skin. He has a leg between Juyeon’s thighs, letting the other relieve his lust by thrusting his hips against it, wet moans making the skin of his neck shiny with saliva. 

“It’s — ugh — valentine’s day,” he pants, his breathing ragged, and pulls his fingers out before his bloody hands curve around Younghoon’s ass and pulls him closer, pushing his hips faster against the firm thigh slotted between his legs. He hums against the crown of Juyeon’s head, letting him dry hump his leg like a puppy in heat. 

Valentine’s day? What a fucking joke. 

⚬

The first time the news talk about it, they call it an abomination — the autopsy shows it clearly, it’s written there in straight lines and thick curves, black ink over white paper. 

CAUSE OF DEATH: ABSENCE OF THE HEART

And that’s all. Other organs are healthy and intact, toxicology negative. No cuts, no scars, nothing to show that someone,  _ something _ , might have taken it out — yet, it is still missing. 

It remains a sensation for a few days but only until the file gets stacked up together with the other ones and everybody forgets it eventually. 

Only a few weeks later do the news of other cases rise to the surface. There are five new ones, all the same, - untouched corpses with missing hearts. It turns out authorities tried their best to hide it from the public but they still got out at the end. This one, well, this one raises panic. People become afraid to leave their houses after dark settles, and avoid non-crowded places like the plague. Still, the bodies show up week after week without interruption. 

There is a pattern. There is a clean pattern that somehow no one can understand, even though it’s clear as crystal. The victims are always categorized the same way: single; living alone; young, probably between 20 and 35 year old. No criminal background, no debts, no nothing that could suggest or imply anything suspicious about their character. 

They are college students or people with everyday jobs, but suddenly after getting home from a night out drinking with friends or a late night study in the library, they don’t show up at work or to classes the next morning and nobody finds them until a few days later. They all die mysteriously, tucked into their beds - do they die in their sleep or do they die before? There are no answers for these questions.

After half a year it becomes part of the citizen’s everyday life — it simply becomes  _ inevitable,  _ almost like someone _must_ die every week for the sake of others.

Younghoon sits on one of the huge window sills in the hallway of the university, scrolling through his phone aimlessly, waiting patiently for Juyeon’s class to end so they can grab lunch from the nearest takeout place and maybe skip the rest of their classes.

It’s sunny outside, the last remains of winter melting into the concrete with the fast approach of spring around the corner. But it’s still cold enough for Younghoon to tug his coat tight around himself, letting the sleeve of his hoodie fall past his knuckles which are red from being outside for too long. 

His news feed is pretty packed, political articles popping up on every third post, valentine’s day sales and meteorological forecasts about a strong windstorm on the weekend appear randomly between the daily reports.  _ It’s weird _ , he notes with passing curiosity, because there is nothing about the weekly corpse, and it’s already Friday. 

_ The heart stealer.  _ That’s what they call it. No name, no face, no fingerprints. Nothing just dead bodies missing the organ that gave them purpose. Nothing, just a cliche label for an intangible phenomena that’s making them hold their breath until a new victim appears. 

Younghoon doesn’t dwell on it too much, attention caught by the tall figure that’s approaching him with slow steps and a drained half-smile. Juyeon looks exhausted, winter has done its worst to him, but somehow he still manages to look effortlessly gorgeous with his pale skin, thin body and dark shadows around his hazy eyes. Younghoon stands to greet him, but instead of his usually cheery greeting, he soundlessly lets his head fall on the other’s shoulder — he’s shaking, Younghoon can feel it vibrating against his own body and it scares him. 

“Ju —”

The younger just envelops him in a bone crushing hug, lean arms around his middle, face pushed deeper into the soft fabric of Younghoon’s coat. 

“I want to go home.  _ Please,  _ let’s just go home,” he whispers, voice hoarse, breathing uneven. 

Without any other word he takes Juyeon by the hand, guiding him through the mass of bodies. Chill bites into their intertwined hands as they exit the building but Younghoon takes them to the car with unwavering steps, letting the younger fall weightlessly on the backseat, taking the most painful form of fatal tiredness, body trembling, legs pulled against his heaving chest. 

Younghoon takes his coat off and covers him with it, a pale  _ thank you  _ escaping through Juyeon’s almost purple lips. He shushes him, long fingers against chapped lips and smiles at the ghost touch of the kiss Juyeon leaves in the middle of his palm. 

Juyeon spends most of his days at Younghoon’s apartment, so much that at one point the older gifted him with a spare key.  _ Just don’t turn up uninvited in the middle of the night,  _ he said, barely finishing his sentence to have Juyeon kiss at his lips immediately, childish grin engraved into the corner of his mouth. It was three months into their relationship as boyfriends and he hasn’t regretted it ever since. 

They take the elevator, Juyeon’s body leaning on his as they watch the numbers in harsh red light indicate the flow of levels as they rise higher and higher. When they reach the top, the younger doesn’t even wait for the doors to open properly, dragging Younghoon with him into the direction of his apartment, his fingers’ hold tight around his hand, blunt nails scratching the thin skin. It hurts. 

He unlocks the door easily and lets go of their hold, taking his shoes off and disappearing in the hallway, steps taking him into the direction of the bedroom. The nail marks he left on the back of Younghoon’s hand burn, blood surging through his veins — crimson finds its way onto his skin, painting prominent half-moons onto the white canvas. 

Younghoon shuts the door gently, taking his shoes off and following him into the bedroom, finding Juyeon spread out on the bed, still clothed, face pressing into Younghoon’s pillow, whimpering softly. 

“What is with you today?” The question comes out sharper than he intended, making Juyeon jolt, looking at him with eyes drowning in tears, lips wet and shiny with spit, drooling on the pillow. “What is it, baby?”

Stepping closer, he sits down on the edge of the bed reaching to push the hair out of his face, but Juyeon dodges it, letting his head fall back into the soft material. “Juyeon?”

“I’m a disaster.”

“Why? What happened?”

“You are going to laugh,” he murmurs into the pillow. 

“Stop acting like a kid and tell me.”

There is long minute of complete silence before he speaks.

“I’m so horny right now, I could literally die,” he whines, voice high-pitched with embarrassment. Younghoon’s hand freezes in midair where it is hovering over Juyeon’s head and takes a minute to understand the words. 

“You wanted to come home to fuck?” They are raw and harsh words, more of a statement than a question — like Younghoon might have actually understood him.  _ Don’t laugh.  _

It’s true that he wanted to eat before doing anything else, but they can have a quick fuck to settle this ominous fever of the younger and have lunch afterwards. “Then get undressed for a start,” he says pulling the hoodie over his head, dropping it to the floor and undoing his jeans with skilled fingers. When he stands up to step out of them, he catches Juyeon’s star-struck expression and raises his eyebrows at him in question. “What are you looking at? I said take off your clothes if you want to have sex.”

He doesn’t have to repeat himself this time. The other gets on his knee, tugging his clothes off clumsily, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. Younghoon watches him with curiosity, looking at his boyfriend’s body with hooded eyes. Juyeon is already hard, muscles contracting as he sits down, arms bulging when he leans back on his palms, a fully bloomed salacious smile on his lips. “What?” he asks, staring playful. “I’d thought you were going to fuck me. For how much longer will you make me wait?”

Younghoon rolls his eyes with exasperation, stepping out of his clothes and crawls over Juyeon like a wild animal over his prey. Long arms circle around his neck, pulling him closer until their lips are almost touching. “Make me scream, baby,” he whispers before finally kissing him. 

They don’t make it to have lunch. Juyeon clings to him like his life depends on him, barely letting him catch his breath before holding him down to have his way with him over and over again. It’s insane but Younghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy every second. 

The valentine’s day party Juyeon drags him to the day after is on the edge of downtown, tall buildings and pretty neon light vibrating in reds and bright bubblegum. The aesthetic of the place is more for Younghoon’s liking than he thought it would be and he lets his boyfriend drag him into the middle of the dancefloor, bodies tangling with the sound of an electric pop song. 

Younghoon sees a couple of familiar faces in the crowd, smiles at them when their gazes meet but that’s all. They are not that close to say  _ hi _ or even ask each other how they’ve been doing. It’s a common ground of politeness.

Juyeon dances next to him without a single care about the world, head thrown back, mouthing the lyrics of the song, smiling at everyone around him. He’s a completely different person after the amount of sex they had yesterday, and Younghoon doesn’t find it specifically weird but it has been staying on his mind ever since he woke up this morning. That, and the constant rough touches. He has been holding him tight, fingers gripping into his side and the back of his hands, kissing him hard, biting into his lips and never leaving his side since he woke up. 

He blames it on the tiredness and the never ending stress they are put under, but secretly enjoys the crude treatment. It makes him feel more and somehow more alive. 

Juyeon chuckles low in his ear when the next song turns into a more sensual one, bringing their bodies close together, hands on Younghoon’s waist — he holds him firm, just like he wants to sink his fingers into the flesh.  _ It’s mad.  _ He tilts his head slightly back, resting it on Juyeon’s shoulder, letting the other kiss along his neck, burying his nose into the patch of skin where he sprayed his cologne. 

“You smell so good, makes me want to eat you whole,” he murmurs loud enough for Younghoon to hear it, teeth grazing along his pulse. The older huffs a laugh and turns his head towards him, kissing him on the mouth.

“My god, you’re insatiable. At least wait until we get back home,” he says between two kisses, sliding his hands down his body until he covers the younger’s larger ones, slotting his thin fingers between Juyeon’s. 

“Mmmh, can we go now?”

“What are you talking about, we haven’t been here for long. And anyway, you were the one who wanted to come, why the sudden disinterest?” 

They swing gently to the heavy bass, too preoccupied in their own bubble to care if people stare. And people stare.  _ People always stare.  _ Because they are both men. Because — shallow reasons. 

“I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea to get out of the apartment for a little, but this bores me to death. We can do way better than this, don’t you think.” He waits patiently for Younghoon to agree, but the older man just provokes him further.

“Like what?”

He can feel the smirk against his neck and pretends to feel annoyed. 

“How about I eat you out on the kitchen counter? Or you get to tie me up with the pretty silk ribbon you bought last time.” His fingers slip under his shirt, giggling when Younghoon sighs, arching his back softly. “We can go vanilla too, I don’t mind, and you can wear the pretty lingerie I bought for your birthday. Or you can put on the leash and I can be the most obedient puppy you ever had.”

His hand slides up and down Younghoon’s side, brushing teasingly over a hard nipple. And he holds back a moan because he doesn’t want to get more attention than they already have. “How about — ”

“I’m going out for a smoke,” he states loudly, pulling his body free from Juyeon’s hold. He doesn’t need to look back to know that the other is following him through the crowd, amused by the state his words had led Younghoon to. 

He takes the backdoor that opens to the alley behind the building, Juyeon’s steps echoing on the stairway as he approaches him. Smoke burns his lungs before he lets it filter through his slightly open lips, grey coiling before him like fog. 

They stand next to each other, leaning against the wall, passing the cigarette between themselves, fingers brushing and sparks igniting just like the time they had started dating. They don’t need to talk, letting silence settle around the faint noises of the traffic coming from the other side of the building. 

He takes one final drag before letting it fall from his hand, killing it with the heel of his shoes, watching the last fragments of fire run along the concrete before fading out. Younghoon feels Juyeon’s hand creep under shirt again and before he knows it, he’s caged against the wall, large hand pressed next to his face. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckles, hands around Juyeon’s neck, pulling him in for the kiss. 

“You still love me.”

“Shut up.”

Kisses turn into a heated make out, with Juyeon’s hands on his back, a firm thigh between Younghoon’s legs, lips wet and numb. The younger licks into his mouth eager, his tongue in an easy game with his but Younghoon has to push at his chest gently, lips separating to catch his breath, foreheads touching. Juyeon’s eyes are glittering, smile on his shiny lips. Words are already forming on his tongue but a soft, determined voice with poisonous edge interrupts them. 

“Why don’t you boys do it where nobody can see it?”

It’s a woman. Tall, with her dark hair tied in a comfortable bun, wearing a light-mauve pantsuit and a delicate black lace top, with dark high heels. She’s pretty, the kind of cold beauty people avoid if possible. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, smoke coiling around her like a venomous snake. 

Younghoon feels the need to pull away, but Juyeon’s hands hold him tighter and closer, fingers digging into the skin painfully. It’s going to bruise greatly. 

“Why don’t you just stop staring?” he bites back, words informal and crude. 

Her face distorts with disgust and beauty slips from her features. Her eyes become sharp, the corner of her mouth pulling with dissatisfaction and revulsion. She means no threat to them, but Younghoon still feels acid burning his stomach, hands gripping Juyeon’s upper arm.  _ He wants to go.  _ And wants Juyeon to let go before he can hurt him more. 

“I should wash your mouth out with soap,” she says, clearly offended by their behavior, annoyance drying her face tight. 

Fingers sink deeper into Younghoon’s back, a small whimper escaping through his lips as pain surges along his spine. 

“You are both  sick _. _ ”

He can’t bring himself to care about her words, too lost at how fast Juyeon lets go of his body, taking the warmth of his touch with himself. He straightens his back, shoulders wide, inky hair falling into his face, streetlight highlighting the fine line of his jaw, expression closed off and hard.

“Say it again,” voice low and heavy, grinding the words between his teeth. 

It almost sounds like a dare, but Younghoon knows a command when he hears one. The woman must be insane, lips pulling with a satisfied grin knowing she hit a weak spot — she’s out of her mind, jaw softening around the word.

“ _ Sick. _ ”

Younghoon watches with wide eyes how Juyeon takes two long steps towards her, his large hand over her mouth and before she can react he’s dragging her to the underground parking lot behind them. She can’t scream, Juyeon’s fingers holding her mouth shut  _ tight _ , hands failing to hold into him, scratching helplessly at his forearm. It draws blood and the muscles bulge under the sun-kissed skin.

He looks horrified at how his boyfriend’s fingers sink into the woman’s face, blood oozing from the wounds. Juyeon is digging them so deep, Younghoon cannot see his fingertips anymore. But he can see the woman’s expression and she looks absolutely terrified. He feels terrified too at the power with which Juyeon holds her up by the jaw while dragging her body at the same time. It’s inhuman and it makes him freeze, legs unable to move. Unfortunately he has to move, has to run after them and stop Juyeon from whatever he’s doing before the consequences of his actions curse him for the rest of his life. 

His heart is beating like a maniac in his rib-cage as he looks at their disappearing forms, tongue dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth, hands shaking next to his side. Juyeon doesn’t turn back to look at him and that worries him even more. 

They disappear completely from his sight and a sudden, odd feeling of calm envelops him, though it only lasts for a couple of seconds until her scream pierces the night and Younghoon doesn’t think anymore. He runs after them, deep down knowing that whatever he wanted to prevent has been already done. 

The parking lot is barely lit, and almost empty, cars scattered over the place and he looks around frantically to find them. She screams again, now more deafening than before and Younghoon turns in his step — but it’s  _ too late.  _

Juyeon has the woman pinned down to the floor with his foot on the middle of her chest, the heel of his boot digging into the lower part where her sternum ends. He’s leaning over her, hand  _ inside  _ her chest. Younghoon can see how with the last drop of her power she tries to claw at Juyeon’s hand — yet they fall immediately when his boyfriend pulls his arm up with her heart in the palm of his hand. 

It still beats, blood dripping down between his fingers, running along the veins and kissing the white of his silk shirt into rosewood. The corners of his mouth twist with a violent pull, wicked grin dancing airily on his lips. He catches Younghoon staring from the corner of his eyes and he chuckles before  _ biting _ into it. 

He’s grateful for the thundering beat of his heart in his ear for blocking out the sound of Juyeon munching on a piece of heart, painting his face red with the liquid flowing out gently. Younghoon looks at the way his Adam's apple becomes more prominent when he swallows and feels his legs giving up, body crumbling to the ground. Juyeon’s face is covered in blood all over and when he looks back at him with the organ in his palm missing a chunk, grin still intact on his lips, Younghoon thinks he’s going to throw up. 

It drowns in him slowly but heavy, breath hitching and lungs burning. 

_ The fucking heart stealer.  _

Younghoon doesn’t leave his apartment for a week and doesn’t let anyone in. It’s not hard when nobody visits him. His phone stays silent. He hasn’t heard anything of Juyeon since he last saw him in that parking lot, tearing that helpless woman’s heart out before eating it. He remembers running away, clumsily stumbling on all four before he got enough power to stand up and run. 

They found the corpse on Wednesday. And Younghoon dreaded to watch the news but he still turned on the television and sat on the sofa with a cup of black tea in his hand. His grip around the mug tightened when they showed the picture of the woman. She was 27 years old, working an average nine-to-five job as an accountant at a small company. No family, no close relationships. It was the neighbour who called the authorities when they found her dead in her bed after she wouldn’t let anyone in for three days even though rent was due on Monday. 

Untouched body, missing heart. No scars, no cuts, no nothing — the exact same thing all over again without the smallest of difference. No video surveillances, no complaints of noise, no  _ witnesses.  _

It’s Saturday afternoon. Younghoon sips on his iced americano nervously, his mind running on scenarios of what will happen a few minutes from now on. Juyeon has sent him a simple text message in the morning and he hasn’t stopped stressing about it.

[10:03 ] JU: coffee at 4. we need to talk 

So he’s waiting for him at their favorite cafe, looking around anxiously at every sound, nearly jumping out of his seat when Juyeon sits down across him, soundlessly like he always does. Younghoon while calming his erratic heart down, thinks about how pathetic he was for never noticing these small things. The soundless steps, only a killer with a blood thirst would be like that. Composed and determined, sharp and fast. 

Just like Juyeon. 

Just like his boyfriend who’s sitting on the other side of the table, dark eyes on him, expression composed. And now that Younghoon is aware of certain things, it’s scary how different he looks. He looks older, more tired than ever, more  _ human  _ than ever. 

“How have you been?”

Younghoon thinks he must be a sight too. A very worrisome one. He hasn’t eaten anything in the first two days after the incident, passed out in the middle of the third one and woke up on the morning of the fourth day with a pounding headache and a killer stomach ache. He ordered takeout and after finishing two servings of rice, he took two painkillers and went to sleep. Woke up late in the evening on the same day, finally took a shower after five days of wearing the same clothes, boiled water and made ramyeon at midnight, took another painkiller and went back to sleep again. 

He cleaned out the apartment on Friday, ordered fried chicken for lunch and dinner and finally checked his phone in the evening before going to sleep.  Groupchats full of notification, at least a dozen of unanswered emails, five missed calls from his mom. Nothing from  _ him.  _

“Been better,” he answers slowly. It’s the first time in days he hears his own voice and he has to clear his throat before asking the same. “How about you?”

Juyeon’s eyes soften, his face loses its hard edges and the tiniest smile makes its way to his lips. “I’m okay for the better part of things. Missing you like crazy though.”

Younghoon looks at him properly for the first time ever since he has sat down and tries to see. He’s cheeks are slightly hollowed, but besides that there isn’t a big difference. It’s true that his black turtleneck looks a little too big on him and that his eyes don’t shine like they used to, but to Younghoon he looks the same. 

Did he miss him too?  Yeah, he did miss Juyeon like someone who’s missing a lung, but the truth is, his fear of the unknown was greater. Not like Juyeon would hurt him — of that he’s quite sure. After all, he didn’t do anything to him that night, didn’t follow him back home and didn’t plead to be listened to. He gave him space and time and Younghoon thinks that after all of this he deserves to tell his side of the story. Well, the only side of the story. 

“I’ve missed you too.”

He makes it look like a slip of words, but his heart still skips a few beats at Juyeon’s smile. 

“Will you tell me?” he asks cautiously, twirling the tall cup of coffee between his hands. 

His boyfriend leans forward a bit, resting his hand on the table with his palm up, fingers bent slightly like an invitation for Younghoon. He looks at it, then he looks at Juyeon who stares back at him with the most tender expression ever, then looks back at the extended hand before letting his own hand relax over it. 

A small wave of heat flashes through his body at the touch, and the urge to intertwine their fingers overtakes him, turning their hand over and sliding his fingers between Juyeon’s. The other watches the gesture with gentle eyes.  Younghoon looks up at him expectantly, thumb drawing irregular patterns over the skin.

“I will tell you everything.”

They take the long way home, walking through busy streets and empty alleys, stopping at their usual takeout place to order something for dinner and if their hands brush on more than one occasion, they ignore it.  Though the first thing Younghoon does when they reach the apartment is to push Juyeon against the front door and kiss him breathless. And Juyeon, touch starved and tired, lets him. Lets Younghoon kiss him into a mumbling mess, soft whimpers on his lips as he melts into the touch. 

With the empty takeout boxes on the coffee table, and their long legs tangled together on the sofa, Juyeon tells him everything. Everything he needs to know. Everything he wants to know. 

He’s a fallen angel, stripped down from his powers, wings taken away, turned into a monster to live between mortals in their mundane world until the end of times. He can take any form he wants, change it to his liking — but never show his true self.  _ It’s hideous, I don’t want you to see it.  _

He feeds on the hearts of the damned in order to not prolong his suffering in this sphere.  _ Damned? What have all these people done to deserve to die? _

Nobody deserves to die. But certain people do deserve to be punished. And death is a great choice of punishment. 

_ The last one. The woman. Why did she deserve it? _

_ She struck the match that had her parents house burn down while they were sleeping inside peacefully. She was only 17 at the time, and was considered a miraculous survivor of the fire.  _

He takes them, claws them out of their chests and leaves the body to rot. But the bodies always stay intact, making it look like a natural death until the autopsy confirms that the heart is indeed missing. 

_ Who destroys the evidence? _

_ No one. There’s no evidence to destroy. It’s like nothing ever happens.  _

Yet people die. Human lives are taken yet nothing happens. 

Younghoon doesn’t know which is more cruel. Taking lives to survive or the need to survive on lives yet never getting a final satisfaction.

_ My sex drive is high when I’m hungry. I know I’ve been rough with you on our last time, but I haven’t had my weekly share and I was going mad. The pleasure soothes my hunger, but if I’m not careful I might actually cause damage that is irreversible.  _

The only way he can end this curse is to starve himself to death, but his lust and hunger for blood runs deeper than his will to suffer until he fades out. 

And somehow he’s need for Younghoon in his so called life is insatiable and irreplaceable.  _ As long as you don’t kill innocent people, you can stay.  _

They make love that night, sweet and hot, limbs tangled, lips in a constant kiss. 

The next corpse is a 21 years old college student. Found by her roommate when she returned to their shared dorm room after a long weekend spent with friends.

_ She poisoned her brother who shortly after died of morphine overdose while already being hospitalized for over two months.  _

⚬

The glass walls of the restaurant tower over them dangerously but they gives a gorgeous view over the city, so Younghoon swallows the unpleasant feeling and takes a sip from his drink. His dessert is untouched and he waits for the moment they can finally leave. 

Across the table, Juyeon becomes rigid for a second. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Are they close?”

His post-sex blissed out expression returns, smiling curving slowly on his lips and Younghoon can never get used to his beauty even after years of marriage. His husband nods gently, unfolding his arms as he leans back on his chair. 

“Should we leave?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

He chuckles, but pushes his chair back and stands up, his tall figure composed and unwavering like he hasn’t been starving himself for two weeks now. That’s how long he manages now to survive without hunting. 

Younghoon empties his glass and they finally leave. 

They take a stroll along the river, hands in their pockets because the early February cold wind beats harsh against their bodies. Rocks screech under their shoes, and the water bites into the shore with cruel waves. 

Younghoon can feel Juyeon vibrating next to him before he sees the tall man standing close to the water, expression dull, shoulders pulled together to protect himself from the wind. He doesn’t ask what his crime is — he stopped asking right after the second murder after the reveal. 

Their approach attracts attention and the man leaves right away after he looks at them from the corner of his eyes. Younghoon looks at Juyeon, at the way his lips pull, teeth showing, eyes glinting. No matter how much he dislikes doing this, the look in his eyes always says otherwise. 

_ Monster. _

They follow the man, never getting too close but too far either, and he never gets suspicious of them. There is only one way, and it might mess with anyone’s mind, but the victims are always strong willed people. 

They get close to the bridge and Juyeon’s patience snaps like harp strings. He quickens his steps, brushing past him, taking the man violently by the neck, grip so hard that it makes it bounce back, twisting in an inhuman way as it turns to the side and Younghoon watches with an apathetic expression how his husband’s fingers sink into the carotid arteries on each side of the man’s neck, blood spilling, splattering it over his hands and face. 

There is no other sound besides the harsh twist and sudden crack of bones as Juyeon breaks his neck, pulling the limp body under the bridge, out of sight. Younghoon stops in his step and watches with mild disinterest how the other’s hand digs into the chest of the victim, fingers curling around the heart before pulling it out. There is this  _ noise  _ when flesh gets teared apart and that’s the only thing Younghoon didn’t get used to. It’s wet and it makes him claw his eyes out. Still, he bends his fingers, nails biting into the soft skin of his palm as he keeps looking at Juyeon munching away on the heart, taking big bites from the organ like it’s the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. 

He looks like a kid, messily eating his favorite snack, not caring if his whole face becomes dirty. Younghoon sighs and walks to him with slow strides, watching blood dripping down his chin as he takes the last chunk into his mouth. 

Younghoon pulls the handkerchief out of his pocket, steps to Juyeon and takes his chin between slender fingers and turns his head towards himself, wiping the blood from his face. Juyeon closes his eyes and lets him thoroughly clean his face, tongue darting out to lick at the excess he left in the corner of his mouth. 

“Had fun?”

Juyeon rolls his eyes exasperatedly, taking one last look at the corpse, the features of his face evening out. He rolls his jaw one more time and starts to walk into the direction of the staircase. 

“I’m craving sour plums. Do we have them at home?” he asks, stopping shortly after, turning back to wait for Younghoon to catch up with him. 

“Yeah, but we might have to buy salt. I think we are out of it,” he adds, synchronizing their steps as they take the stairs up to the street that’s packed with life. 

**Author's Note:**

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